


ossification

by youcouldmakealife



Series: between the teeth [49]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 00:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7662553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What does it look like?” Kiro asks. </p>
<p>“Obvious,” David snaps. “It’s obvious.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	ossification

David wakes up feeling bruised and he’s not sure why. He is bruised, of course, because he’s always bruised — there’s one on his right side along his bottom rib that’s tender and hot to the touch, a scattering of ones on his legs, the standard until the offseason, but it’s nothing worse than usual. The feeling isn’t centered on a location, it’s just all over, the sort of sensitivity that follows a bad hit, when you’re cataloguing every part of your body, deciding where it hurts the most.

Not a hangover, he doesn’t think — his head’s clear, he’s hungry, and he didn’t drink too much. A shower helps, both the hot water and the cool tile against his forearm as he braces himself against the wall, head tucked into the cradle of his arm, hand on himself. He has time this morning, no rush on an off-day. There’s a routine to this, both the physical — he figured out the most efficient way long ago, though today he’s lingering — and the, well. Emotional, David supposes. He’s not really sure how to describe the ‘don’t think about Jake’ that he tries to follow, that he often fails at.

It’s harder to avoid thinking about him this morning, when David saw him last night, not across the ice, not a picture of him on some article about the Panthers’ losing streak, but sitting across from him for hours, not touching but close enough that he felt — or imagined he felt — the heat of Jake’s body, legs tucked under the booth so close to David’s, the sharp cut of his jaw something new, made evident by his hair cut. Gone are the traces of baby fat that had stuck, stubborn, to his face, made him look younger than he was. David had heard his sisters call him ‘baby face’ multiple times, in a way that seemed sharp, mean, but made Jake huff and then grin, never offended by anything.

It’s one thing, trying not to think about memory worn thin with time, with distance: the way Jake above him made him feel small, and how he liked it and hated that he did, that anyone could make him feel small, make him like it. The way Jake always bit his lip to keep quiet, and that his mouth would look as red and used as David’s mouth felt after David got his mouth around him. The way his muscles went tight when he was close, body hard like he was cut out of stone, but was comfortable to lean back into when he tugged David back against him, warm and soft. He almost always fell asleep first, and David found it easier to fall asleep with him than he had at any other time he can remember, matched Jake’s slow, even breathing until it lulled him to sleep.

David tries to replace him, as always, with faceless, generic masculinity. Last time he had it’d drifted to Georgie before he could stop himself, and he couldn’t look at Georgie without feeling guilty for the rest of the day, so maybe it’s best to just keep thinking about Jake, memory instead of fantasy, the way Jake always looked uncomplicatedly happy, after, like he’d just received a present he liked, the way David couldn’t help but feel uncomplicatedly happy, looking at him.

David’s just gotten out of the shower when there’s a knock on the door and Robbie yelling through it, “Hey All-Star, come get breakfast!”

“Give me fifteen to get dressed,” David calls back, and Robbie makes a rude noise at him and then tells him to meet him in the lobby. David dresses and get his hair dry in ten, only then looks at his phone. He has an email from Dave titled ‘Congrats!’, and between that and Robbie, he doesn’t need to look to know they’ve announced the All-Star roster, that he made it again this year, but he’s curious about the other invitees. They’ve started including a player from every team, trying to be fair, David supposes, if not actually rewarding the best. Last year Parent was tapped, was on David’s team, and David doesn’t think they said a single word to one another.

Oleg’s not on the list, which isn’t surprising but is frustrating. Crane is, which was a foregone conclusion with the season he’s having, so for the first time David isn’t the sole representative from his team. Will know someone there, but of course, there’s —

Well, Jake’s had a better season than last year, had a good if not great one, and he’s the best Panthers option this year. Again, David isn’t surprised.

“I don’t know if you’re smiling or frowning right now,” Robbie says at breakfast.

“I’m not doing either,” David says.

“And yet somehow you’re doing both,” Robbie says.

“You and Georgie get back late?” David asks, and Robbie grimaces.

“Nah,” he says. “Lourdes booked it pretty soon after, so we only stuck around for a drink.”

“You guys are…okay, then?” David asks, tentative, and Robbie laughs.

“Sure, Chaps,” Robbie says. “Peachy keen.”

“It’s—,” David starts, doesn’t finish, fiddling with his cutlery. Awkward. Uncomfortable, being around it, but he doesn’t want to say it. It doesn’t sound very nice.

“I know,” Robbie says, even though David didn’t say anything. “I get it, okay? I’m trying to be civil.”

“What did he do?” David asks before he can help himself, curiosity overriding caution, then, “Sorry, I know—”

“You really want to know?” Robbie asks, sounding angry. David isn’t really sure he does if it means Robbie will be mad at him again, but Robbie doesn’t give him a chance to answer either way. “He broke my fucking heart, okay? I’m trying to be civil, cut me some fucking slack.”

David feels numb. He knows there are — things that sound gay, but aren’t, and he doesn’t think that’s one of them, but maybe he just hadn’t heard it before. Or maybe Robbie’s kidding. Robbie jokes a lot and David doesn’t always get the joke, doesn’t always know it’s a joke in the first place.

“Do you mean—” David tries, and his voice comes out thin, strained.

“That’s a pretty unambiguous statement, David,” Robbie says. “But if you need some help, let me lay it out for you: we were in a relationship, he fucked me over, now we’re not. Clear enough, or do you want me to tell you the size of his dick too?”

David flinches. There are things he could say, should say. Something like ‘I’m sorry that happened’, or even ‘I know how that feels’ doesn’t mean David’s gay, is the sort of thing that a friend would say regardless. 

“I need to go,” David says, instead.

“That’s what I thought,” Robbie says, and David’s out the door before he realises that Robbie didn’t sound angry, just. Sad. 

It wouldn’t be hard to go back right now. It’s twenty feet, and David could say he’s sorry, that he was just surprised, that whatever Robbie thinks, he’s wrong, and David understands all too well. That seeing Jake even across the ice, hearing his name in passing still makes his heart slam in his chest, that David can’t imagine being on a team with him, even now that the anger, the hurt has faded to something that just feels like missing him. That he appreciates Robbie telling him, that it was brave of Robbie to tell him, that David doesn’t know how to be brave like that, that he’s not sure he wants to be, but that he’s glad that Robbie is. 

It’d be so easy to turn around, but David’s petrified. 

He has to move eventually, if only so he isn’t still there whenever Robbie comes out — something hysterical in David’s laughing at that word choice, Robbie coming out _again_ — and he goes outside, feels at a complete loss, then remembers that Kiro’s not just a phone number right now, that he’s a drive away.

“Morning my love,” Kiro chirps, and David can’t help but think about him and Robbie blowing kisses at each other last night, at him, and the thought sits heavy, ugly. “Miss me already?”

“Hi,” David chokes out.

“What’s wrong?” Kiro asks, suddenly serious.

“I need to—” David starts, can’t finish.

“You need to breathe,” Kiro says. “We will get brunch, okay? Meet at the breakfast place beside the bar?”

“I just ate,” David says, though he didn’t finish.

“Then you drink tea,” Kiro says. “Tea is calming. Good for Davidson right now.”

“Okay,” David mumbles. He’s there before Kiro. The place is empty except for him, not getting much business at 10:30 on a Thursday, and he orders green tea from a disinterested waitress, has ripped a napkin into shreds and then guiltily tucked it onto the saucer under his cup by the time Kiro blows in, hair wet.

“You didn’t have to rush,” David says.

“Shush,” Kiro says, sliding into the booth beside him. “What is wrong?”

“You should order first,” David says, and Kiro does, a fruit plate and toast and coffee, then gives him an expectant look. David looks around, but the waitress has disappeared into the back, and there’s one guy drinking coffee across the place, but no one within earshot.

“There’s someone on my team—” David starts. He doesn’t want to mention names, he knows he can’t mention names. It’s not even someone. _Someones_. “They’re. Gay, I guess. Maybe they’re not gay. Jake isn’t gay, so—”

“Robbie or Georgie tell you?” Kiro asks.

“You knew?” David asks, voice cracking, then, “Robbie.”

“Exes,” Kiro says. “Right?”

“How did you _know_?” David asks.

Kiro shrugs. “Obvious to me,” he says, then, presumably at David’s face, “Not to everyone, I am just — I notice. Robbie is happy, Georgie comes, Robbie is furious. Georgie spent whole night trying for Robbie to look at him.”

“Trying to make Robbie look at him,” David mumbles.

“Thank you,” Kiro says. “Trying to make Robbie look at him. Why are you upset?”

“Just because I’m—” David snaps.

“No,” Kiro interrupts. “Not saying you should not be. Asking why you are.”

David takes another napkin, tugging at the edges until it shreds under the weight of his grip. “I didn’t know. He didn’t _seem_ —”

“What does it look like?” Kiro asks. 

“Obvious,” David snaps. “It’s obvious.”

“Is Jake obvious?” Kiro asks.

“No, but he’s not gay,” David says.

“Likes men, right?” Kiro asks. “Likes you.”

David pulls harder at the napkin. 

“Are you obvious?” Kiro asks, quiet.

“Probably,” David mumbles, and swipes impatiently at his eyes before they spill over.

“David,” Kiro says, sliding out of his seat.

“Don’t,” David says. “Don’t hug me right now, okay?” If Kiro hugs him right now he might lose it, and he can’t. They’re in public. He can’t.

“Okay,” Kiro says, sitting back down. “Robbie tells you, what then?”

“I called you,” David says.

“What did you say?” Kiro asks.

David shrugs miserably. “I said I had to go.”

“David,” Kiro says again.

“I know, okay?” David asks. “I know.”

“Okay,” Kiro says. “Want to come over after brunch, meet Orange?”

David doesn’t really like cats, but he doesn’t want to go back to the hotel right now, they’re not heading down to Tampa until that evening, and David doesn’t particularly want to leave Kiro, so he nods slightly, drinks two more cups of tea while Kiro eats.

“Home,” Kiro says, when they pull into the driveway of a generic looking townhouse. David didn’t know what he’d expected, maybe the same clutter of Jake’s place, but it’s tidy. Expected it to feel warm, like Kiro’s warm, and it does, full of furniture he must have brought from Pittsburgh, old and beat up and personable. It’s a stupid thought, furniture somehow having a personality, but when David sinks into the couch in Kiro’s living room, it seems to embrace him.

He startles when he feels sudden weight on his legs, and looks at the cat settled in his lap, heart beating too fast.

“Orange,” Kiro says, then something in Russian. “Sorry,” he says, when she doesn’t move. “I told her to get off. You want me to take her? I can put her in my bedroom if she is upsetting.”

“It’s okay,” David says, staring at the cat, who stares unblinkingly back, then settles on him like he’s a cushion.

“I knew you were her favourite,” Kiro says. “Careful. She bites sometimes if you are not careful petting,” he adds, when David tentatively puts a hand on her back, but she doesn’t bite him, or scratch him, or anything he’d expect, purrs in his lap and then stalks off when he has to get up to go to the bathroom, winding her way around his feet when he returns, so that he has to step carefully.

Kiro doesn’t say anything about Robbie at all, puts some cooking show on in the background, white noise David glances at occasionally. He tells him stories at some points, at some points doesn’t say anything, and it feels easy until David thinks about Robbie, that he’s going to have to get on the plane with him, maybe sit beside him — though he probably doesn’t want to sit with David — that David has to say something, because he doesn’t think this is the same as last time, where Robbie will apologise for overreacting before David can say a thing. 

It’s hard to imagine, because Kiro’s — Kiro knew, and Kiro’s Kiro, and Kiro’s _kind_ , but David thinks about what it would have been like if Kiro had walked out when David told him about Jake, and the very thought makes him feel ill.

“What am I supposed to say to him?” David asks, when it’s getting close to the point he needs to leave. He’s no closer to knowing how to deal with Robbie than he was sitting across from him, and Kiro always seems to know what to say.

“Sorry?” Kiro says. “That you were just surprised. He thinks—”

“He thinks what?” David asks.

“Yesterday,” Kiro says. “When we were joking, making kiss faces.”

“What about it?” David asks.

“You didn’t like it,” Kiro says.

“No,” David says.

“He noticed,” Kiro says.

“So?” David asks.

Kiro shrugs. “Not hard to think you will not like him being gay.”

“It’s not like that,” David snaps.

“I know that,” Kiro says. “He doesn’t. Maybe tell him?”

“No,” David says.

“Why not?” Kiro asks. “He would understand.”

Maybe that’s the problem. Robbie understands, Robbie _gets it_ , and Robbie doesn’t _seem_ gay, Robbie’s funny and happy, except when Georgie’s around, seems to be friends with the whole team, excited to go home for Christmas, to see his family, and David doesn’t get that. Doesn’t know how to.

“I can’t,” David says. 

“Okay,” Kiro says, and David almost wishes he’d argue, tell David that he had to, that it wouldn’t be fair not to, but he doesn’t, and David still doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when Kiro drops him off back at the hotel.

David isn’t the first one there, this time, is in fact one of the last, since he needed to repack his suitcase, and Robbie’s with Matthews, telling a story that involves a lot of hand gestures and laughter, looking exactly the same as normal. David wonders if Matthews knows. They’ve been road roommates for years, he must, if Robbie’s telling David after knowing him for a few months, but he’s acting completely normal with Robbie, smacking Robbie’s arm then pulling him into a loose chokehold while Crane rolls his eyes at them. 

Georgie’s standing with Salonen, a couple feet back, and they’re talking, but he’s got his eyes on Robbie, and David wonders if it is obvious to everyone but him, if he’s the only one who missed it. But no one’s saying anything, no one has said anything, so David thinks it can’t be.

David starts walking over, sure it’s just — it’ll be fine, it’s normal, but Robbie meets his eye and the laugh fades to nothing, his mouth going tight. David stops, suddenly sure he’s very much not welcome, and whatever he’s going to do — he’s still not sure what — he’s not going to do in front of the team. 

He walks over to Oleg instead. “Can I sit with you?” he asks, tentative.

“Fine,” Oleg says. “No Lombardi today?”

“I don’t think he wants to sit with me,” David says. He says it so quietly he can barely hear himself, so he’s not sure Oleg hears him. Not sure he wants him to.

Oleg’s eyes flick over. “I am not watching your dumb show.”

“That’s okay,” David says. He’s curious what happens next, but that has to wait until he sits with Robbie again. If Robbie wants to sit with him again.

“Are you okay?” Oleg asks.

“Fine,” David says, but it must not be very convincing, because Oleg frowns, pats him on the arm, and stands close until their ride arrives.


End file.
